


Where We're Headed

by MaskedShipper



Series: Learning to Trust [4]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Adjusting to Life Together, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24529990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskedShipper/pseuds/MaskedShipper
Summary: They’ve never quite gotten this far before. Daniel’s been this breathless in the past, fingers digging into Jack’s shoulders and body arched against his, but never with Jack cupping his straining arousal through his trousers. And Jack’s certainly been this desperate, has pressed rough, sweet kisses to Daniel’s collar, sunk his teeth into the firm muscle of his shoulder, but never with Daniel grinding against his thigh.or,This new territory is hard to navigate when they haven’t quite put words to what they’re doing together, but Daniel and Jack learn to manage it.
Relationships: Daniel Sousa/Jack Thompson
Series: Learning to Trust [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769266
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	Where We're Headed

They’ve navigated the new territory enough to get this far. 

Jack’s learned that touching the thigh of Daniel’s bad leg too low makes him tense in the worst way, makes him go quiet and withdrawn, ends the heated kisses and brings them to the couch where they both resolutely talk about anything else but that. Daniel’s learned to keep his hands above the waist until Jack’s real breathless and flushed, until Jack’s own hands are more adventurous, to keep the other from batting him away on an instinct he’s trying to fight but that still gets the better of him. 

But tonight, it’s obvious they know more about each other than they realise. 

The whiskey’s burned some of their reservations, and Daniel can taste the warmth of it on Jack’s lips, can feel it in the hitched rhythm of his breath with their chests pressed so close together. The kissing--a desperate drag of tongue and teeth, Jack vicious in his desire to claim all of Daniel’s mouth--is enough to set Daniel’s blood on fire, but it’s when Jack backs him up against the bedroom wall that he feels himself begin to lose control, shoving those suspenders off and tugging Jack’s pressed shirt out of their proper spot tucked into his waistband. 

Jack’s hands are everywhere--pulling Daniel’s hips closer so they can grind their clothed arousals together, at the back of Daniel’s neck to keep his mouth where he wants it, undoing buttons of his shirt and mapping out Daniel’s chest, a trail of goosebumps wherever those calloused fingers claim. And Daniel’s body knows it means he can go further, knows it means it’s time for Jack’s own shirt to come off without the risk of being pushed away, until they’re both in their undershirts and Jack finally allows Daniel’s red, swollen lips some reprieve as he bites at the column of Daniel’s throat, drunk on courage and desire, threatening to leave marks but always with enough control to move on before he can bruise the way he wants to. 

They’ve never quite gotten this far before; Daniel’s been this breathless in the past, fingers digging into Jack’s shoulders and body arched against his, but never with Jack cupping his straining cock through his trousers. And Jack’s certainly been this desperate, has pressed rough, sweet kisses to Daniel’s collar, sunk his teeth into the firm muscle of his shoulder, but never with Daniel grinding against his thigh. 

Daniel’s trembling, but he sucks in uneven breaths even as he rolls his hips into the other, trying to clear some of the fog from his mind so he can get a better grip on what’s going on. Even in the bedroom, he’s a soldier above all other things, and his instincts won’t allow him to go further without at least trying to map out this new territory. He parts his lips, hissing as Jack continues to stake his claim on his body, ruthless and thorough with his mouth, but tries to speak. 

“Jack--”

“Don’t ruin this.” Jack’s breath on sweaty skin causes Daniel to shiver, the firm roughness of his voice addictive, and Daniel wants to listen, he _does_ , but--

“ _Jack_ ,” he tries again, and this time Jack relents, his grip softening, his lips careful as they kiss their way back up against Daniel’s neck, trailing sweet apologies along his jaw, nuzzling against the side of his face in resignation. Large hands rub soothingly against Daniel’s hips, and it’s distracting, but Jack’s always like this. He says sorry for his pigheadedness with his body instead of his voice, and Daniel accepts it by slumping against him and trying to catch his breath. 

It’s risky to use words. There’s a minefield ahead of them, one that isn’t flagged, and either of them could step on something that means this is over--which isn’t a loss at all, because the heat of Jack’s breath and the feel of his mouth against his throat is burned into his memory now and Daniel’s more than happy with just that, and they’ll be able to work their way back eventually. 

The longer it takes Daniel to speak, the more he feels Jack pull away. 

“I want you.” Daniel’s voice is a whisper of desire and affection, a dangerous combination for someone like Jack who so far can only handle one of those at a time. Still, Daniel raises his hand to cup Jack’s cheek, thumb stroking the stubble of his jaw, tilting his head so their eyes can meet. “Just need to know… where we’re headed.” 

“Where we’re headed?” Jack echoes, the confusion palpable even as he turns his head to lean into Daniel’s touch, pressing a gentle kiss to his wrist. 

And despite how it makes Daniel heavy to insist on talking about this knowing it might mean they have to end things for the night, he nods, eyes never leaving Jack’s. 

“Figure… we’re headed toward me waking up beside you every day.” It catches Daniel off guard and he tenses in surprise, so much so that it makes Jack withdraw, pulls those baby blues away from his own, but Jack persists despite how he hides his face in the crook of Daniel’s neck, disguising the cowardice that comes with talking emotions by pressing kisses there. “Figure we’re headed toward me drinkin’ your awful coffee on the regular, and you letting me pick out your ties ‘cause _Christ_ you got _terrible_ taste.” Daniel’s breath gets caught in his throat, colour and emotion high on his face. “Figure maybe we’re headed toward you bein’ soft for me, the way you got me weak for you.” The longer he speaks, the more tense Jack becomes, but genuinely, Daniel wasn’t expecting any of this to spill from Jack’s lips, and it’s got his heart beating a wild rhythm, has his hands too shaky so he threads them in strands of blond hair, has him too dumbfounded for words, except the silence is obviously something that’s causing Jack to pull away from him--emotionally, and now, physically. 

It’s no surprise that Jack’s face has lost the tenderness of his words, hardened the way it always becomes when he catches himself being vulnerable, an unimpressed brow raised even as Daniel is breathless and smiling so soft, his happiness a deep well that Jack’s dug himself.

“You’re the one who wanted to talk,” Jack accuses, the uncertainty of his words etched in the scoff he manages through his embarrassment. “So? That what you wanted to hear or what, Sousa? Or did I finally manage to figure out how to get you to shut your trap? If I’d known that’s all it would take--”

Daniel leans up to press his grin to Jack’s lips, laughs deep and blissful against him, pulls Jack impossibly close to him so Jack’s back to crowding him against the wall. Daniel holds him tight, kisses a confused Jack through the warmth he’s soaked in from Jack’s honey-rough words. The smile is still plastered there when he pulls away, and Jack’s blinking a dazed look from his eyes, brows still furrowed even as his own smile grows, tentative and unsure. 

“You don’t already think I’m sweet on you?” Daniel asks, presses the words against Jack’s stubble, against his throat, before he’s back up, stealing another kiss. And instead of telling Jack just how much he wants all of that, that he figures that’s exactly where they’re headed, he knows it might be too much for the moment, so instead, he says, “I wanted to know where we were headed… tonight.” Daniel smooths the confused creases of Jack’s face with gentle fingers, leans up to press their mouths together again, but he lets this one linger, his smile dimming as heat pools between his legs once more, as he starts slowly grinding against Jack’s thigh, swallowing his lover’s hitched groan of pleasure. “Wanted to know what you planned on doing with _this_ ,” he whispers against Jack’s mouth as he palms Jack’s cock through his pants. “Wanted to know how you wanted to finally take me, Jack. But that other stuff? We should definitely keep talking about all that other stuff if--”

Jack’s kiss is rougher now, and Daniel’s teasing smile is back even as he gives a strained moan of pleasure, Jack gripping both of Daniel’s thighs so he can lift him slightly, so he can grind their hips together, a slow rhythm that pushes Daniel back against the wall in the best way. 

Daniel’s hands become more frantic the hungrier their kissing becomes, matching the growing urgency of Jack’s teeth and lips, his tongue fucking his mouth in time with the way he thrusts against Daniel’s hips so it’s all Daniel can do to loop his arms around Jack’s neck and ride his thigh. 

It isn’t long before Daniel’s hands are fumbling with the buttons of Jack’s pants, Jack breathing hot and heavy against the side of his face as he’s finally freed, his moans choked as Daniel closes his fingers around him and strokes his cock, hot and pulsing in his palm. He can feel his mouth water with the weight of it in his hand, feel himself impossibly hard and aching in his own pants. 

There’s a moment of confusion when Jack works at sliding Daniel’s pants off where Daniel reaches for his wrist to stop him. He pulls a small tin of petroleum jelly from his pocket, his smile shy and embarrassed, but it only makes Jack’s eyes darker with hunger, makes his lips come crashing onto his lover’s, and maybe it’s a bit more of a hassle to get his pants off blindly, but they’ve always worked well together and they manage it decently enough.

Jack doesn’t look down, but he curls his fist around Daniel’s aching dick, breathes heavy and sharp against his ear as he jerks him, the cold tin of the lube pressed against Jack’s palm and, consequently, Daniel’s hip, as he holds him steady while Daniel fucks into his hand. 

They’re stalling, something evident in the way they’ve slowed down. The next step isn’t obvious between men who haven’t quite put words to what they’re doing together. 

Jack finally pulls away, though he leans on Daniel with shaky legs, as he gets the tin open and slicks up his fingers, then his dick, then Daniel’s--no decision made yet, but preparing for all scenarios. 

Daniel feels hot, the whole of him flushed in an obvious way, his face on fire and his chest burning and all of him aching for Jack. But there’s fear, too--the heat of uncertainty, of almost-shame with how bad he wants this, and he swallows thickly, hands a little clammy as he reaches for one of Jack’s own, as he laces their fingers together in a way they rarely do but he very much needs right now, his chest tight and stomach heavy and dick grinding into Jack’s palm. 

He dares meet Jack’s eyes and is startled by the softness there, and he whimpers despite himself when Jack squeezes their joined hands, when he raises them to cup the side of Daniel’s face and kiss him, sweet and tender. 

“M’gonna take care of you, Daniel,” he whispers, right up against his mouth, and it pulls the air right of Daniel’s lungs to hear it, to know it as fact. And it’s that trust that keeps him from questioning things as Jack turns him around, the same trust that keeps their fingers laced together even as Jack uses their joined hands to stroke Daniel’s cock, even as he steadies him with his other hand against his hip, rocking into him in a way they haven’t done before, a way that has Daniel slumped forward and desperately rocking back. “You gonna let me?” 

“ _Yes_.” It’s choked and guttural but he means it, wants it so bad, tightens his hold of his dick with Jack’s fingers as he grinds back against him, feels that thick, heavy cock press against him in a way that leaves him tense and wanting all at once. 

And he _is_ tense, despite the way he arches back, and it’s obvious that Jack feels it because he’s slowed down, presses feather-light kisses to Daniel’s neck, his shoulder, whispers soothing words about how good Daniel is, how hot he is, how perfect this is, filthy sweet things about how he’s thought of this for so long, how he wants it so bad. 

That’s when Daniel feels it: the head of Jack’s dick, throbbing and slicked with lube, sliding between his thighs. His instinct is to spread wider but Jack tightens his hold on his hips, urges his thighs closed, and this is _much_ better. It’s hard to keep himself up, but Jack’s strong enough for the both of them as he fucks between his thighs, dragging his dick against Daniel’s own arousal as he fucks him, slow and hard, as Daniel claws at the wall before reaching back, head twisted so he can taste Jack’s desire firsthand, swallow those moans and hitched breaths as he bucks back against him. 

And Jack’s in his element now, so far gone he’s forgotten their unspoken promise not to mark, a hand on each side of Daniel’s hips and _bruising_ as he pulls the other against his cock in a rhythm he’s decided, one that has Daniel moaning into his mouth and stroking his cock in time with. Jack growls, the sound sucked up by Daniel’s lips, as he thrusts against the firm muscle of Daniel’s thighs, finally takes what he wants from him, and Daniel squeezes his legs for him, squeezes his hand around his own dick to keep from coming undone, but there’s only so much control he has now with Jack fucking him like this, right up against the wall. Every thrust pushes air from his lungs, a desperate sound riding on each breath Jack fucks out of him, until Daniel is a squirming mess unable to do more than press his head to the wall and _take it_. 

There’s a firm hand against Daniel’s cock and he can’t help but keen in pleasure, embarrassed at the dark chuckle against his shoulder but too far gone to retaliate with a witty comeback. There’s only this now: the heat of Jack surrounding him, the pulse of his cock between his thighs, the confidence of Jack’s hand stroking him, stoking a fire that’s burning Daniel up from the inside. 

He doesn’t feel it build, but he feels it crash, feels a hand on his mouth to keep his wild desperation from being heard by neighbours, feels his release in the throbbing of his cock and the pulse of Jack’s own against him. And Jack growls his approval, fucks Daniel harder for a moment, then another, before his own release is spilled against the wall with his lover’s, his pace slowing until his body slumps against Daniel’s. 

They catch their breath on shaky limbs until Daniel tries to pull away and Jack takes a hint, taking a few steps back so he can fall onto the cot nearby, and pulling Daniel along until the other falls against him, too out of breath to shift into a more comfortable position, mind too hazy and body still buzzing until there’s little he can do except press his face to Jack’s neck as he tries to regain some form of composure. 

“That… was something,” Jack finally says, laughter at the edge of his voice, and in the darkness of everything unsaid between them, he finds Daniel’s hand and laces their fingers together. 

“Certainly was,” Daniel agrees, his smile pressed against Jack’s skin. 

The silence isn’t stressful this time around. It’s warm and comfortable despite the drying cum and the discomfort of sweat. 

Eventually, Daniel breaks it with a quiet, “D’you really not like my coffee?” 

The laugh is finally pulled out of Jack properly and he joins their lips together, even as he shakes his head in disapproval, despite the fact that they both know he’ll drink it every morning anyway. 

That’s where they’re headed, after all.


End file.
